It Begins
by EchoDeltaNine
Summary: Where December 1st is Arthur's least favorite day of the year, Merlin is determined to make "Christmas" the decor of choice, and there is much merry to be made and fluff to be had.


**It Begins **

**(or, alternately: December First: The Day Christmas Ruined Everything)**

**Part I of The Merthur Holidays Saga**

Arthur sighed as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment building, briefcase weighing him down, Thai takeaway in a bag hanging from his wrist. It had been a long day. It always seemed that December first was the worst day of the year. Everyone seemed to have _problems_, and Arthur was always the one to have to fix them.

He juggled the bags in his hands and dug in his pocket for his keys. He sighed again, taking a deep breath as he prepared to face the inevitable post-work interrogation. He desperately hoped that it would be short-lived and that he could actually relax tonight.

He should have known better. In fact, he _should_ have listened to his instincts and taken Leon up on that drink he'd offered. He _should_ have known from the complete lack of text messages. He should have _known_.

Once he'd shouldered his way into his flat, he froze, nearly dropping the briefcase and the food. He was certain that his jaw was hanging out by his ankles and that his eyes were probably ready to pop out of his head.

"What the—?" he grimaced, carefully shutting the door. He turned the lock and bravely ventured into the living room, skirting around the boxes and storage tubs that had appeared in his absence.

He wrinkled his nose as he slipped into his kitchen, depositing the takeaway and his briefcase, shedding his coat, scarf, and hat. There were boxes everywhere—on every available surface, completely covering his dining room table.

Honestly, he didn't know where this crap came from.

He was just contemplating whether he should investigate the contents of the boxes or just ignore them and eat his dinner when there was the sound of ripping tape and then a loud thud that came from somewhere deeper in the flat.

Arthur swallowed back his trepidation—told himself he was a man and could very well handle this—and cautiously moved towards the sound. He scanned the hallway, peering up the stairs to check for signs of life. He sighed, turning towards the parlor when he was nearly knocked to the ground.

"Sorry," said a severely harassed voice. Arthur pressed himself against the wall, watching with wide eyes as a gangly man rushed past him dragging a long rope of gold garland. He gulped, trying to decide whether he should confront this or let it be when the man turned to him.

He looked even more harassed than he sounded.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, concerned. Merlin took in a deep breath, as if he were about to start explaining without a prompt—well, Arthur could wish, couldn't he?—but then he turned around, muttering to himself, and began to attack the tree that had materialized while Arthur had been at work.

Arthur sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face and tugged helpfully on the garland when it caught on something in the other room. Merlin tossed him a grateful look, carefully walking 'round and 'round the tree, distributing the garland in definite, equal drapes.

"Merlin," Arthur tried again, stepping toward him. "What are you doing?"

It was a stupid question. He knew this. Merlin did, too, as he didn't answer, finishing with the garland and diving for another box labeled "ornaments." Arthur stared, too exasperated to even attempt to get an answer.

He chose, instead, to stride forward and pull Merlin up by the back of his shirt and drag him away from the boxes and the tree.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried, twisting around to try and break Arthur's hold. "Let me go!"

"It's still going to be there when you come back, Merlin."

"Yeah, but—" Merlin turned again, succeeding in nothing except tangling himself in his shirt and Arthur's unyielding hands. "It's December first!" he huffed.

"Yes," Arthur agreed, depositing Merlin against the counter. He immediately started back for the parlor, a look of fierce determination on his face, but Arthur caught him firmly around the waist and pinned him against the counter. Merlin let out a low whine and looked at him with wide, panicked eyes.

"Stop looking at me like that," Arthur said seriously, dropping his head to nuzzle against Merlin's neck.

"It's _December_ _first_, Arthur. Don't you know what that means?"

"Yes. It means that it is one day closer to the New Year, and the first day of my month of hell." He pulled back to look at Merlin's face. He had stopped looking so panicked, but it was clear that Arthur had not succeeded in dampening the spirit.

"No. No, no," Merlin disagreed, shaking his head, his hands grasping at Arthur's shoulders as he tried to push him away. "It means that I only have twenty-four more days to—"

"You have all the time in the world, Merlin."

"NO, Arthur!" He pushed hard, shoving Arthur back, but Arthur closed the space between them and bent him half over the counter.

"Merlin," Arthur said seriously. Merlin struggled, limbs flailing until Arthur pinned them flat to the surface.

"Merlin," he tried again, waiting until his gaze was met with shining blue eyes. "It will all still be there in an hour. I just—" he paused, knowing that ordering Merlin about would get him nowhere. "Will you please eat dinner with me? It's getting cold, and Thai doesn't taste good cold."

Arthur was certain that Merlin would fight him on it, but he submitted easily, gently nodding his head. Arthur let him go so that he could straighten up, only to be pulled into a rough hug, Merlin's face buried in his shoulder. Arthur stroked a hand down his back, threaded his fingers through Merlin's hair.

After a few moments, Merlin pulled away, portioning out the takeaway onto some plates. Arthur watched with some amusement as Merlin realized that the table was covered and grimaced in despair.

"It's alright," Arthur soothed, picking up his share. He nudged Merlin with his hip. "We'll clear a spot in the living room. Don't panic."

Merlin followed obediently, setting his plate aside to help Arthur haul boxes off of the couch. Arthur sat down and Merlin immediately curled into his side, plate balanced expertly, half on Arthur's knee and half on his own.

"Did you miss me?" Arthur asked, half-joking. He and Merlin usually sat close, but Merlin hardly ever sat nearly on top of him unless he was feeling particularly vulnerable or was going to tell Arthur something he wouldn't like. Merlin tilted his face up, chewing softly as he appraised Arthur's raised brow. Finally he swallowed and ducked his head, his ears turning a brilliant shade of red, and nodded.

"Yes," Merlin murmured. He looked as if he was going to say more, but promptly bent and began to shovel food into his mouth. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Slow down there, tiger," Arthur chuckled nervously, lifting a hand to smooth over the nape of Merlin's neck. "Relax, you're going to choke." Normally Arthur would tease him about being so emotional ("Honestly, Merlin, could you be any more of a girl?"), but today Merlin seemed very sensitive, so he refrained from doing so. Merlin often put up with Arthur's extreme changes in mood without complaint. It was only fair that Arthur do the same.

Merlin looked up at him sheepishly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was still red, and he seemed shy all of a sudden. Arthur wrapped his arm around him and pulled him close.

"Are you alright?" He asked, concerned. Merlin hadn't acted like this since before they'd moved in together. And that had been almost four months ago.

"Yeah," Merlin sighed, turning back to his food. "I'm sorry I'm crazy."

"You aren't crazy," Arthur said gently, stroking his thumb across the back of Merlin's neck. Merlin laughed, but it sounded fake.

"Sure, Arthur. And you're not completely perfect all of the time." He sighed, finishing off the rest of his food before setting his plate aside.

"Well," Arthur frowned, taking another bite. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm actually not perfect, Merlin." Merlin snorted but didn't comment. Arthur polished off the last his meal and used the remote to turn the television on. Merlin scowled, but Arthur manhandled him into his lap, then stretched them out and held Merlin tightly against him.

"Arthur," Merlin whined.

"No," Arthur said sharply. "Watch this with me. Please."

Merlin huffed but stayed. Arthur draped his arm over Merlin's waist; wedged his knee between Merlin's own. Some sappy American romance film played on the TV, but Arthur barely paid attention, instead concentrating on soothing his hand over Merlin's chest, of breathing in the earthy scent of his cologne. This was his favorite part about living with Merlin. Coming home to this, Merlin's heart beating against his palm, feeling more relaxed than he ever had before.

Merlin reluctantly relaxed, pressing his back against Arthur's chest and tangling their fingers together. It was nice, this. Everything that Arthur had ever wanted.

But it was short lived.

They hadn't been laying there for twenty minutes when Merlin started to fidget. In his mind, Arthur swore. He had been so comfortable, just about to fall asleep. Now he was wide awake again, trying to hold Merlin in place without appearing to do so. He glanced up blearily at the clock hanging on the wall. He still had three minutes of his hour.

"I don't think so," he murmured, pressing a hot kiss to the nape of Merlin's neck. "Hour isn't up."

"Arthur," Merlin groaned, squirming. "I need—"

"No," Arthur interrupted, rolling them off the couch. Merlin squawked in protest as Arthur kneeled over him, bracing his weight on Merlin's hands to hold him down. "What you _need_ is to relax."

Merlin whimpered. "Let me go."

"Hmm, nope," Arthur mused. He gazed down hungrily at this lovely man, letting his eyes drag over every inch of his face before he leaned down to press a kiss to Merlin's pouty lips.

At first, Merlin resisted, resolutely keeping his mouth closed, turning his head to evade Arthur's kiss. But Arthur determinedly followed until Merlin gave in, letting his jaw fall open and allowing Arthur unlimited access. Arthur slipped in his tongue, languidly twirling it with Merlin's, their mouths moving in sync. Arthur kissed him until he couldn't breathe, and then pulled away, resting his forehead against Merlin's. They were both panting.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered breathily. His hands strained against Arthur's until he let go, and Merlin tugged him down until they were lying flush together. Merlin's fingers threaded through Arthur's hair, stroking down the back of his neck to finally knead his shoulder.

Arthur wasn't sure how long they laid like that, breathing each other in, exchanging small, chaste kisses, Arthur murmuring approval against Merlin's pale skin, but it was far too short a time. He knew it was inevitable, but when Merlin started squirming again, trying to heave Arthur off of him, he sighed heavily, forced one more kiss from Merlin's mouth, and then rolled off. He closed his eyes so that he didn't have to see Merlin get up (and trip over himself) as he made his way back to the parlor to continue with the decorating.

Arthur let out a long breath. He loved Merlin. He really did. But his eccentricities were sometimes hard to live with. Like today, for example. All Arthur had wanted was to come home and cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to complain about Mrs. Jenkins and how she had insisted that her boyfriend was stealing money from her account, only to find out that it was their joint vault and he had gone to buy an engagement ring. He wanted to watch crap tv and then seduce Merlin on an epic scale, make love to him all night until Merlin couldn't walk in the morning.

But he had come home to this, an epic disaster of Christmas joy. Arthur didn't hate Christmas, but he did hate the ridiculous expectation for constant good spirits and all of the red and white and fake snow. He didn't like having a tree that dropped needles everywhere, and he didn't like having to take it all down once the holiday season was over.

He didn't hate Christmas, but he wished it didn't require such froufrou traditions.

"Son of a snack basket," came Merlin's voice from the other room. Arthur snorted. Merlin was certainly inventive. "I can't believe this."

Arthur sighed, forced himself to his feet. Those words never boded well.

"What did you do?" he asked, striding into the room, only to stop dead in his tracks. Merlin was there, sitting on the floor with a box in his hands. Said box was vomiting shining silver tinsel, and that, too, was everywhere. Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. He fucking _hated_ tinsel. It was such a mess to clean up and it _never went away_.

Merlin looked up at him, the bemused smile slowly fading from his face.

"Arthur?"

Arthur didn't even know what to do. He was suddenly furious, grinding his teeth as he tried to reign in his temper. He didn't want to be mad at Merlin. He knew how much Christmas meant to him, and he was glad that Merlin often challenged him to be more human than usual, but this was too much.

So instead of yelling, like he wanted to, and instead of telling Merlin that he better have all of this shit picked up and out of the way in the morning, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting to ten.

"I'm going to bed." And that was it. He didn't stay to see Merlin's hurt face, or to see what other kinds of messes his boyfriend would make. He went straight to their bedroom, picking his way between the boxes. Once there, he closed the door and put on his pajamas, then climbed into bed, turning towards the wall and closing his eyes. He was still angry—could feel it pulsing through his body—but he couldn't sit out there and watch Merlin destroy his flat. He wouldn't do it.

But he couldn't sleep. He could hear Merlin moving around and he felt wretched for being such an arse. He didn't like going to bed angry, especially because Merlin had some sixth sense about how Arthur was feeling at all times, and he would _know_ that Arthur was mad.

It was hours later—nearing midnight—when Merlin finally let himself into the room. He was almost silent as he dug around in the dresser for his pajamas and then crawled into bed. Arthur felt tense. Sometimes it was easy to make up with Merlin and sometimes it wasn't. Arthur was sure that he had offended him with his sudden abandonment; hurting Merlin was worse than being angry with him.

Arthur knew that he was being kind of petulant. A relationship went both ways. But he was inexpressibly relieved when Merlin slid across the space between them and pressed his body against Arthur's, burying his face in Arthur's shoulder. Arthur let out a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry," Merlin murmured, his voice quiet. Arthur swallowed, then rolled over, pulling Merlin into his arms. Merlin snuggled close, his arms locking around Arthur's body.

Arthur stroked his hair.

"Don't be sorry," Arthur said seriously. He knew that he was being irrational. Merlin was perfect just the way he was. Arthur really wouldn't have him any other way. He liked that Merlin was so excited about everything. He just sometimes forgot that he needed to be patient.

Merlin burrowed closer, his face hidden against Arthur's chest.

"You were angry." Merlin's voice was small.

"I'm not anymore." Arthur nuzzled into Merlin's hair. "I shouldn't have been. I'm sorry." Merlin shook his head.

"I knew that you wouldn't like it. I tried to get everything done before you got home, but the lights were tangled and I just didn't have enough time."

"It's alright. I understand." And he did, honestly. Merlin only ever wanted to make things good for them—for Arthur. "I'm not angry anymore."

Merlin nodded, accepting, but it took several minutes before he was finally relaxed.

"I love you," Arthur whispered.

"Despite the fact that I got tinsel all over you flat?"

Arthur wrinkled his nose, taking a calming breath before he answered.

"Because of it," he lied smoothly. Merlin snorted, tipping his head up to look at Arthur, a frown marring his face.

"I was worried that you were going to tell me 'no' when you got home." Arthur raised his eyebrow.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're a Grinch," Merlin said without missing a beat, but his smile softened the blow. "And because this is your flat, and I didn't ask."

"This is _our_ flat, actually," Arthur said seriously. "This is _our_ home, and you are welcome to do whatever. You don't need to ask me."

Merlin stared at him. The light from the streetlamps filtered through the blinds, illuminating his eyes until they were incredibly blue. He suddenly looked very vulnerable.

"Why do you put up with me?"

Arthur smiled, leaning down to kiss him, slow and deep.

"Because I love you more than anything," he chuckled honestly, tucking Merlin's head beneath his chin and settling them into a more comfortable position. "And because it's Christmas. We're supposed to be generous to charities, right?"

Merlin elbowed him hard and shoved him away, grumbling about arrogant prats as he rolled to the other side of the bed. Arthur laughed, feeling only slightly guilty as he followed his boyfriend across the bed, ignoring Merlin's protests as Arthur covered him with his own body, pressing warm, adoring kisses to Merlin's bare skin.

"I love you," Arthur promised. And, later, as they laid together, Merlin too warm against his side, he promised them both that he would call into work the next day, and he would prove that he was no Grinch or Mr. Scrooge. He would, upon pain of death, be Christmasy and help Merlin finish decorating the flat.

Merlin sighed in his sleep.

Arthur was sure that Merlin would be the death of him.

* * *

**Hey all, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this! I'm taking requests for this pairing since I'm on Christmas break and will have some time. Send requests in a review, or PM me if you're interested. Happy holidays!**


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